The Club
by June Smith
Summary: Eric goes A.W.O.L.  Sookie runs damage control.  Post-Dead Reckoning.


_This was written for Violetbat as past of the Sookie's Secret Santa fic swap. The exchange can be found at (username) Sookie's Secret Santa and is a goldmine of great stories. Violetbat, I sat down to write something light and fun, but this popped out instead. Hope you enjoy and happy holidays! Of course, everything here belongs to Charlaine Harris…_

* * *

><p>Gran never missed Tuesday night bible study. For 35 years straight, she met "her girls" in the multipurpose room of The First Methodist Church every Tuesday at 7 p.m.<p>

It was only "bible study" in the loosest sense. Sometimes the ladies read a psalm or two, but gossip was the real order of the day. "What the husbands don't hear, doesn't hurt them," Gran had told me, years ago.

Next Tuesday—July 11th—would have been Gran's 79th birthday. When a teary Maxine Fortenberry invited me to "remember Adele" with the bible study ladies, I got a little misty-eyed myself. I was scheduled to work, but Holly said she'd cover my shift. She was saving up for her honeymoon with Hoyt.

"We're planning a weekend in Biloxi," she said. "No Cody." Then, she gave me the kind of smile that women share when there isn't a man to see it.

Sam's reaction couldn't have been more different. When I told him I'd be out Tuesday, he got the worried look I was starting to know too well. "Why? You hear from Eric?"

"No." My voice sounded tart. Too tart. Sam needed to mind his own business.

I explained bible study and watched concern disappear from Sam's face. His reaction made me feel rotten. I knew Sam wasn't Eric's biggest fan, but that didn't mean I liked being reminded of it.

As Sam started talking about the time he'd hosted bible study at Merlotte's, my mind wandered.

Back to you-know-who.

Sam must have noticed, because he frowned. Again. "Sookie, if you ever need to talk—"

"Thanks." I forced a smile. "I'm good."

I did need to talk. To Eric.

I'd called Eric a few days after we ambushed Victor. He said he was busy, but he had something to tell me. He'd stop by my house in the next few days.

That had been three weeks ago.

I hoped his silence wasn't my answer.

* * *

><p>I'm not the kind of girl who cools my heels.<p>

When Eric failed to drop by, I called him again. When he didn't pick up, I tried Pam. She didn't answer, so I phoned Fangtasia. After getting the answering machine two days running, I drove to Shreveport.

I went on a Friday, after work. By the time I got out of Merlotte's and on the interstate, it was after midnight. I pulled up to Fangtasia just shy of one a.m. Under normal circumstances, the bar would have been packed, but tonight, the parking lot was empty. A sign taped to the front door read,

CLOSED FOR RENOVATIONS

I drove straight to Eric's. On the way, I kept imagining an empty house, but that didn't make it any easier to see. Eric's windows were dark; his door, locked. The mailbox was so stuffed with letters I had trouble opening it.

So, he'd left in a hurry. Without leaving a forwarding address.

And without telling me.

On my way home, I stopped by Bill's. If anyone knew Eric's whereabouts, it would be him.

Whether he'd tell me was another story.

As soon as I pulled into Bill's driveway, I knew something was wrong. His lights were off. There was a pile of yellowing _Bon Temps Gazettes_ on his front porch.

In desperation, I called Mustapha.

"They're in Las Vegas," he said. "Didn't you know?"

* * *

><p>Las Vegas meant Felipe, which meant trouble.<p>

Eric, Pam, and I had recently killed Felipe's right hand man in Louisiana. Victor had been Eric's boss, and an all-around untouchable, according to vampire hierarchy. By those standards, we deserved punishment for taking him out. By rights, Felipe would be the one to set the sentence.

I could only assume that if Eric was in Vegas, Felipe had summoned him. He was probably negotiating for his life. Maybe for mine as well.

I wanted to talk to Eric—partly to rip him a new one for skipping down without so much as a see you later—but I also didn't want to upset whatever delicate game he was playing. The most under-the-radar communiqué I could think of was a text message. Call me paranoid, but I sent something generic in case Felipe had access to Eric's phone,

_I miss you. Call me._

I figured Eric would understand I meant _call on me_ if I could do anything to help. The optimistic part of me believed Felipe couldn't afford to discipline Eric harshly. The removal of a veteran Sherriff would destabilize a state that had seen too much recent upheaval. But my inner pessimist knew that Felipe could send a clear message to any other would-be vigilantes by punishing Eric.

It could go either way.

Needless to say, I was losing sleep.

Gran's bible study was a welcome distraction, because by the time Tuesday rolled around, my phone still hadn't rung. I had no texts. No emails. No visits. It was almost as if Eric had dropped off the face of the earth.

I wanted to believe that I'd know if something had happened to him, but we'd broken the bond. I didn't regret it then, and I didn't now, but the worst could have transpired and I'd have no idea.

I couldn't let myself imagine it.

"You okay, Sookie?"

Maxine Fortenberry was touching my arm. Concern was written all over her face.

I nodded. I had to clear my head. Worrying about Eric wouldn't do him—or me—any good. I was at Gran's party. I had to enjoy the moment.

Per custom, we'd gathered in the First Methodist multipurpose room Tuesday at 7 p.m. There were a dozen bible study regulars, plus me, which made lucky thirteen. The women were about Gran's age, give or take a decade. Currently, they were clustered around a folding table creaking under a mountain of food. The ladies had pitched in on a potluck of Gran's favorites—dirty rice, fried boudin balls, and, of course, pineapple upside-down cake.

I let Maxine steer me towards to the food table. As I neared, the ladies showered me with variations on "Adele would be so proud." Only half meant it—the joys of being a mind reader—but I couldn't find it in heart to hold the lies against them. It was clear that they all loved Gran. Those that didn't think much of me were tolerant in her memory.

"Sookie, come." Edna Pearson, a devoted baker, pulled me towards the pineapple upside-down cake, which was undoubtedly her creation. She'd crowned it with two candles—one molded in the shape of a 7, one in a 9.

"Sookie should blow them out," Maxine said. The group murmured approval.

It felt surreal to be looking at a birthday cake for a woman who'd passed, but I couldn't fault the effort—or the love—that had gone into its creation.

I gave the ladies a smile and blew out Gran's candles in one go.

I don't think I need to tell you what I wished for.

The ladies clapped. All eyes were on me, so decided to say a few words. Just thinking about what this party would have meant to Gran got me choked up. "I can't thank you enough—"

Before I could finish, the door to the multipurpose room swung open with such force it smacked against the wall.

A head popped inside.

Eric.

The room went silent. Edna's jaw dropped.

I closed my eyes. When I reopened them, Eric was still there.

Well, he wasn't here to see Maxine Fortenberry.

My heart started pounding. I didn't know if it was relief, excitement, or dread.

Everyone turned to look at me, including Eric. He cleared his throat. "Sookie, now."

Much as I didn't appreciate the summons, what could I do? Eric was hardly going to leave without me. And these were extraordinary circumstances. If he appeared after three weeks of being M.I.A., I was damn sure he had a good reason.

"I'll just be a second." I smiled at Gran's friends, trying to act like my vampire boyfriend crashing a church party was no big deal. And by our standards, it wasn't. On a 1-10 scale of Sookie-and-Eric crises, him showing up uninvited was about a 0.01.

I still put up my shields on my way out the door. I didn't need to hear what the bible study ladies were thinking.

As soon as he saw me move, Eric left the room. I caught the door before it slammed and followed him into the hall. I could feel every one of Gran's friends' eyes on my back.

When I shut the door, Eric was staring at me. Of course, he didn't say a word about interrupting the party. He probably didn't even realize what he'd done.

Sure, I was annoyed at his entrance and his attitude, but my frustration faded fast. Less-than-gentlemanly behavior aside, after weeks of worry, my primary feeling upon seeing him was relief. "You're okay?"

"No." He looked grim. "Felipe de Castro is here."

"Here, as in—"

"The parking lot."

"This lot?" My brain was running on a five-second delay. "Why?"

"We tried Sam. He sent us here."

That didn't answer my question. "Why?"

"To see you."

Yes, but, "Why?"

"Why?" Eric was obviously at the end of his tether. "Pick a reason. To upset me. To manipulate you." Eric began hustling me towards the exit. You didn't keep the King waiting.

"How was Las Vegas?" From his tone, I already knew the answer.

"Not good."

I waited for more—like Felipe's ruling on Victor—but of course Eric didn't provide it. It pissed me off. How was I supposed to handle myself if I didn't know what was going on? I opened my mouth to confront him, then thought better of it. We didn't have time for a fight. "Is Pam okay?"

"As much as any of us." Eric was in a mood tonight. We'd reached he door. I was about to push through, but he stopped me. Grabbed my arm. "He wants you to work for him. Full time. Or at least, that's my guess."

It was my guess too.

"Are you in trouble?" I had to know if Felipe was holding him to account for Victor's death.

Eric gave me a good, long look. "Lately, I'm always in trouble." He made it sound like an accusation.

Then, without another word, he opened the door and ushered me into the lot.

* * *

><p>Unlike Eric, Felipe cut to the chase.<p>

"Eric has asked me to intervene in his negotiations with Oklahoma," he said when I got within ten feet of him.

I was thrown, which had probably been Felipe's intention. I'd expected our conversation to revolve around Victor.

Felipe was leaning against a nondescript black sedan, wearing his customary cloak. Standing near him was a vampire I didn't know—Eric's height, but twice as broad, which is saying something. He was obviously a bodyguard. He wouldn't look at me, but I figured that was a good thing. The less attention I got, the better.

Eric's face was blank, but I could tell he was tense. Obviously, he hadn't expected Felipe to open with the Oklahoma issue. Or, perhaps, mention it at all.

"He owes me." Felipe looked straight at Eric. "Yet, he's asking favors."

So, Felipe knew about Victor.

I didn't understand why I was part of this conversation. Eric had made it pretty clear the meet-up wasn't his doing. Why would Felipe possibly want to have this talk in front of me?

Honesty was the best policy until I had a better handle on the situation. "Will you help us?"

I immediately regretted my phrasing. Vampires didn't 'help' anyone if they could avoid it.

Felipe smiled. It wasn't very nice. "If he marries Oklahoma, it will sever your connection."

He made it sound like a good thing. Like he was doing me a favor. Offering me an out. And in a way, he was. If Eric left me, I'd be free.

The thought was momentarily exhilarating. I loved Eric, but I didn't love constant danger. I didn't love being yanked out of my Gran's birthday party to negotiate for my life. I didn't love dealing with people like Felipe. I didn't love vampire politics.

But nor did I love the thought of Eric with another woman. In fact, I hated it. I hated it almost as much as vampire infighting. And I'd never escape their politics, whether I was with Eric or not. Felipe's presence here—in my church parking lot, for goodness sake—testified to that.

If Eric left, I wouldn't be free so much as free for the taking.

Free for Felipe's taking, specifically.

I suddenly understood why Felipe had wanted to chat. He was feeling me out.

I thought fast.

If Eric married Oklahoma, that left me a free asset, by vampire reckoning. I'd be snatched up. Unless, of course, I wasn't as free as I appeared.

Felipe had said Eric's marriage would sever our ties, but, "It won't break the bond."

I could feel Eric's eyes boring into my back. It wouldn't break the bond, because we'd broken it three months ago.

I couldn't read Felipe's expression.

"Yes," he said, finally. "Your bond. I forgot."

I was pretty sure that Felipe didn't forget jack.

I didn't know if he believed me, or if he was setting an elaborate trap to make me trip over my own bullshitting. I couldn't afford to worry about it. Not now. Or, not yet. If I was to have any chance of success, I had to see my lie through with total confidence.

I looked Felipe in the eye and said, "I go where Eric does." When Felipe didn't say anything, I kept right on staring. My message had to be clear. If Felipe wanted me in his state—and in his arsenal—he had to start working on Eric's behalf.

Felipe looked at Eric. Eric didn't say a word, but he put his hand on my shoulder. I let him. After the party crashing and the information withholding, Eric was dancing on the edge of my shit list, but I figured acting anything other than thick as thieves would have looked pretty damn suspicious.

Felipe stared at us. His face was blank. Usually, I'd have no desire to know what he was thinking, but right then, it would have been nice to know if he believed us.

"I'll see what I can do," Felipe said, finally.

Without another word, he got into his car. The bodyguard followed. Within seconds, they pulled out of the lot.

Eric watched Felipe go. Then, he turned and stared at me. I couldn't read his expression.

Vampires.

"The bond is gone."

"Felipe doesn't know that."

"Risky, Sookie."

Yes. But if Eric knew it and I knew it, why talk further? Flapping our gums wasn't going to make us any safer.

"You would come to Oklahoma?" Eric looked hopeful, which made me feel sick.

"No." But, again, Felipe didn't know that. At least, I hoped he didn't. If Felipe called my bluff, I'd live to regret today.

Eric's thoughts seemed to be traveling along the same path. "If the worst happens, Pam will stay here. Take you under her protection—"

"Eric." I couldn't talk about it. Not now. "Stop."

Mercifully, he shut up. But he wouldn't stop staring at me.

"He'll want something in return," Eric said.

Yes. Felipe hadn't become King by doing folks favors. But we'd cross that bridge when we came to it.

And we'd come to it.

"What are the consequences for Victor?" I asked.

Eric shrugged. "I don't know." He looked dead tired. "Reparations, maybe. Felipe's made no decisions." I took that to mean Felipe wanted to leverage the Oklahoma situation to squeeze as much out of Eric as possible.

"I'm still here." Eric made existence sound like a victory. And in a way, it was.

I felt exhausted. Too tired to talk, I just looked at Eric. I'd forgotten how blue his eyes were.

"It's good to see you," I said, just as he came out with,

"I miss you."

I missed him too.

The silence stretched. I waited for Eric to say more, but I guess he'd filled his vulnerability quota for the month.

Eric sat on the hood of the nearest car. More silence. Then, finally he surprised me with, "I'm sorry he came tonight." An apology from Eric was as rare as snow in July. "Who are those women?"

It took me a second to realize he was talking about the bible study cohort. "Gran's friends."

Eric's nod was as close to an apology as I would get.

Silence fell again. He was staring into the street. After Felipe. "I don't know what to do."

"Join the club."

He looked at me sideways. "You are a member?"

"Sure." I sunk onto the hood next to him. Lest Eric start setting dues, I said, "You know there's no real club? It's just a saying."

"I've been a English-speaker for 50 years, Sookie."

Twenty-four years longer than me.

I took his hand.

"I want to be in your club, Eric." But it wasn't up to me alone. He had to want it too.

"You are my club." He looked miserable saying it, which charmed my socks off.

Not.

I wanted to say _prove it_, but I also didn't want to fight.

And, in a way, he'd proven it by taking the issue to Felipe. In my romance novels, the hero made a big dramatic stand, but in the real world, love rarely conquered all without some help from bureaucracy.

"I've made my bed," Eric said, surprising me with the idiom, and his grim tone. Then, he surprised me again by leaning close and kissing my neck. "Let's celebrate." He didn't sound happy.

"Celebrate what?" I didn't think we were done talking, but he kept trying to kiss the doubt out of me and, after a few seconds, my body responded. It had been three weeks, and I hadn't just been missing his conversation, if you know what I mean. I leaned into him and allowed myself one kiss—long and lingering—before I pulled away.

Did I want to keep going? You bet. But even though it was dark, we were out in the open. Theoretically, anyone could see us. And we were right next to a church, for goodness sake.

Not that any of these arguments would have held traction with Eric. "Sookie." Muffling any further protests with another kiss, he twined our hands together, somehow managing to deposit my palm on the part of him that was extra happy to see me.

His enthusiasm was impressive, considering the stress we were under.

I moved my hand out of the danger zone. "I won't have sex with you in a church."

"It's just a building." Eric's words were half-muffled as he kissed my neck. "And we're outside it."

I chose clarity over tact. "No sex near church."

If Eric had his way, those would be my famous last words. As it was, I managed to untangle myself from him before he untangled me from my jeans. I only got a step away before Eric hooked his finger in my belt loop and dragged me back to his lap.

"You should wear more skirts," he said, running his hands up the sides of my pants.

I liked his smirk, god help me, so I let the easy access comment slide. This was the Eric I knew. Happy. Confident. His expression made me want to smack him and kiss him all at the same time.

I'd missed him. Tons.

"We'll be okay."

I regretted the words as soon as I said them, because the smirk dropped off Eric's face.

"Yes," he said.

The follow-up question hung between us: _How?_

We sat for a second, silent.

Then, I kissed him again.

It was easier than talking.

* * *

><p>Eric insisted on walking me to the multipurpose room. With Felipe prowling around Louisiana, he wasn't sure when he'd be able to see me again. "Soon," he said, but both of us knew that was a best guesstimate. "Tomorrow. If I can."<p>

Tomorrow wasn't a moment too soon. Eric and I needed to plan. As we were both painfully aware of that fact, I didn't bother saying it. I just nodded.

Eric looked desperate. He wrapped his hands in my hair and kissed me.

What a kiss. It was a toe-curler. It made me remember why I put up with him in the first place. When we broke apart, I felt breathless, and it didn't have anything to do with lack of air.

"Later." He made it sound like a promise.

I opened the door to the multipurpose room.

Gran's friends were staring at me.

On instinct, I turned and looked over my shoulder. Eric was gone, but there had been a window in the door.

So they'd seen everything. Eric. Our kiss. If I had the energy to feel embarrassed, I'd have been blushing up a storm. As it was, I just felt tired.

"That's your man, Sookie?" Maxine's question was overly polite, since everyone already knew he was. I didn't have to be a telepath to figure out that they'd been gossiping about us while I was gone.

Was Eric my man?

Well, I wanted him to be. He wanted to be.

"Most days," I said.

The days he wasn't engaged to someone else.

Everyone laughed. Edna, to Maxine's right, started talking about that time Gran put Grandpa Mitchell in the doghouse.

I forced a smile and sat. Eric was my man for now. For longer, too, if we were lucky.

My phone buzzed. I looked down.

He'd texted me. He hadn't even left the building.

"What are you smiling at?" Maxine was watching me.

"Nothing," I said. "Just—"

Well, just Eric.

I shrugged and she smiled, like she knew what I was thinking.


End file.
